


I Only Dream of You, My Beautiful

by sophie_448



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-15
Updated: 2007-07-15
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/pseuds/sophie_448
Summary: The last hours of the year are ticking by, and Sam realizes that there's no way to save Dean.





	I Only Dream of You, My Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](https://spn-lyrically.livejournal.com/profile)[spn_lyrically](https://spn-lyrically.livejournal.com/) My prompt is found at the beginning of the fic. All lyrics used are from "Sing for Absolution" by Muse. 
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [](https://shadowc44.livejournal.com/profile)[shadowc44](https://shadowc44.livejournal.com/) Really at this point I'm sure there's no proper way to thank you, but I'll keep trying!

_Lips are turning blue_  
_A kiss that can’t renew_  
 _I only dream of you, my beautiful_

 

**_364_ **

Sam can’t do it. He can’t save his brother. Dean always kept his promises to Sam; always protected him, but Sam can’t return the favor. All year he’s tried, but he’s come up empty. It’s late on day 364 and he picks up the latest in a yearlong parade of useless books with no answers and hurls it across the room. The thick volume knocks a lamp off the table with a tremendous crash.

“Sammy.” The word is spoken quietly, full of weariness and resignation. “It’s okay. Just come to bed.” Dean holds out a hand.

Sam wants to shake his head and keep looking, afraid the answer is on the next page and if he stops he’ll miss it, but somewhere deep inside he knows there isn’t any answer. So he gets up from his chair and wraps himself around his brother, hoping if he holds on tight enough he can keep him safe.

Neither of them sleeps, but they pretend.

 

**_365_ **

Sixteen hours. Sam can practically hear the deafening ticking of the countdown. He lays down salt lines at the doors and windows and a thick circle around the bed. He knows it won’t make any difference, but it makes him feel like he’s doing _something_.

After the salt is poured, he carefully steps over the line, making sure not to disturb a single grain, and crawls into his brother’s waiting arms. “Don’t leave me,” he begs. It comes out small, pleading, and childlike. Sam doesn’t care. The time for hiding emotions is long past.

“Don’t want to, Sammy,” Dean responds, stroking his hair, “But a deal’s a deal, right?” His lips twist bitterly.

Sam can’t stand to see that broken look on his brother’s face. He leans in and presses his lips to Dean’s. Dean’s lips part easily and they kiss like they’re trying to crawl inside each other, needy and desperate. Hands skim over skin like they’re trying to memorize each other. They know each other by heart and have done for so long it might as well be forever, but memory is fickle.

If the beginning is hazy, the end is all too clear and looming far too close. When Dean slides inside him, Sam gasps, knowing this is the last time he’ll ever be complete. They’re both crying when they come. Dean collapses on top of Sam and they’re clinging to each other, bodies wracked with sobs.

In the hours that remain, they hold each other and they talk. They say important things and inconsequential things, but every word has the same meaning behind it. _I love you._

Sometime after eleven, Dean pulls off his amulet and his ring and hands them to Sam. Sam shakes his head, trying to give them back, but Dean closes his long fingers around them. “Won’t do me any good now,” he says.

At exactly midnight the hellhounds come. When the windows start rattling, Dean’s eyes snap to meet Sam’s and there’s no concealing the fear in them. “I love you, Sammy.”

“Love you too, Dean.”

Their lips collide in one last, desperate kiss. It’s harsh and bruising and over too quickly and the door flies open, spraying splinters from the shattered lock. The salt deters the hounds that Sam can’t see for barely a moment.

Dean backs up against the headboard, his hands out in front of him as if to ward them away. Then they’re on him and Sam is knocked off the bed by the force of the unseen terrors. Otherwise, though, they don’t touch him. He sees the deep gashes rip across his brother’s perfect skin. There’s screaming, though he can’t tell if it’s his or Dean’s. Probably both.

Then it’s over and Sam is left alone in the ruins. Beside him is the broken shell that used to house Dean, but Dean’s not there anymore. His green eyes that used to be warm and teasing and loving are like shards of glass now. Empty and sightless. His lips, those perfect lips that kissed and smirked and tossed out smart ass lines, are tinged blue.

Sam leans down and presses a kiss to them anyway. They’re cold, like marble. That’s when he starts screaming. There are words in the screaming sobs, but they don’t make too much sense.

Finally when he’s screamed until his voice is gone, the numbness comes over him. He wraps his brother’s body in a sheet, since that’s all he has for a shroud and carries him gently out to the car.

He drives out to the middle of the woods and finds a clear space. He digs the grave without thinking too much about it. After all, it’s hardly the first time he’s done it. Although it’s the first time he’s burying instead of digging up.

He doesn’t bother to burn the body. After all, Dean’s soul is already spoken for, so there’s no chance he’ll become a restless spirit.

As morning breaks, Sam walks away from his brother’s unmarked grave.

 

**_366_ **

Sam researches with brutal efficiency. He finally finds what he’s looking for somewhere in northern Wyoming. _Of course_ , he thinks bitterly. It would be Wyoming. He’s at the abandoned warehouse in under eight hours. He doesn’t bother to be stealthy when he enters.

“Hey!” he calls out, “I know you’re here, okay? You can eat me, but I wanna talk first.”

The djinn is in front of him in moments. “So talk,” it says in a sibilant voice, cocking its tattooed head curiously.

Sam swallows hard, then speaks with determination. “I know what you do, all right? I want that. I just want to sleep and forget.”

The djinn smiles and its blue eyes are sympathetic. It’s already reaching up a glowing blue hand. Sam puts his own hand out to stop it.

“Wait! That’s not all.”

The djinn pauses, looking at him questioningly.

“Can you just . . . eat me a little slower? I want it to be two lifetimes. With my brother. With Dean. Okay?”

“All right,” it agrees, looking somewhat bemused. This is probably the first time it’s ever had a willing victim. It reaches up that glowing hand again and says, “Sleep.”

Sam’s last conscious thought is that he hopes this is close enough to suicide to send him to Hell, because he doesn’t want to be anywhere that Dean’s not.

 

~*~*~*~

“Sam! Move your ass! Got word of a poltergeist in Birmingham. We can be there this afternoon if we get going.”

Sam runs at his brother, nearly knocking him off his feet with the force of the impact. His lips crash against Dean’s and he’s drinking him in like he’s oxygen.

“Sam, what?” Dean gasps.

Sam shakes his head, smiling like the sunrise. “Nothing. Let’s go.” He nips his brother’s lip once more for good measure before sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala. He grins as Dean cranks up the Metallica.

 

 _Sing for absolution_  
_I will be singing_  
 _Falling from your grace_

_Our wrongs remain unrectified_   
_And our souls won't be exhumed_


End file.
